Bewitched
by LizzieCrawley
Summary: A tale where tradition meets innovation, where an English Lord meets an American beauty. When blue meets blue, could two completely different young people find the unexpected? Cobert before they became Cobert.
1. Chapter 1

**My sincere thanks to my wonderful beta, granthamfan, who with her generosity contributed to this story to be published.**

* * *

He leaned against the pillar and crossed his arms, glad to be able to relax for a moment. Well, not exactly. Of course, it would be better if he could sit down. In fact, if he had a choice, he would not even be there. But, as his parents didn't give him any option and in the absence of an available place where he could sit, Robert was willing to cheerfully accept one of the large pillars for company.

The pillar would probably be his best company for the evening. It wouldn't question his mood, it wouldn't ask him futile questions just to keep a conversation going, it wouldn't require polite answers and meaningless smiles and, above all, under no circumstances would he be forced by etiquette to dance with it. Robert allowed himself a perfectly audible sigh just because there was no one close enough to him to hear it.

The pillar also seemed to be a good observation post, at least for someone who wanted to discreetly enjoy all the ballroom excitement without actually participating. But, that definitely wasn't his case. All he wanted was to remain as invisible as possible since disappearing entirely was something completely out of the question.

Robert looked around. The ballroom of Lady Beatrice Beaufort's great house was full, which was no surprise. Year after year, the ball she offered in celebration of her birthday was becoming one of the most attended events of the season. Besides, the old lady was one of the most popular and well-connected people in London society. Robert dared even to say that she knew all the noble families of the kingdom. At least everyone he knew was there this evening. Among a sea of familiar faces, there were even some new ones.

That thought made his eyes seek her out again- the beautiful brunette with striking blue eyes and whose smile was able to leave him breathless. He found her sitting just a few feet from where he stood. He had first seen her a few nights ago and hadn't yet been properly introduced to her. Someone had told him that she was a wealthy American heiress; probably George. Or had it been Simon? Robert didn't remember. All of his memories from the ball of two nights ago were nothing more than a blur.

Robert didn't regret having been drunk. He hadn't done anything improper and, at least, hadn't been the only one. His good friends, George and Simon, had cheerfully joined him and they had spent an enjoyable evening of cards, cigars and fine wine. His lips twitched into a smirk, amused by his own mischief. Fortunately, the wine excess hadn't been able to erase her from his memory.

Before she could discover him, he forced his eyes away from her. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Robert saw George standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, happily chatting with three young ladies who seemed completely melted by him. He almost chuckled. George always had this effect on women.

To be honest, George had enough qualities to cause it. Good looking with a charming smile and the owner of a considerable fortune, the young Viscount Brentwood had quickly become a favorite in the marriage market. But when he had become the heir of his uncle, the Duke of Waltham – which one day would make him a ridiculously wealthy man – he had become the most eligible bachelor in all of England.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the beautiful brunette win the ballroom on the arm of Simon Dashwood, George's younger brother, and suppressed a sigh. It was never a fair contest having the competition of the Dashwood brothers.

He thought about how much his family would be shocked if he decided to court her. An American. She had the most important requirement for his father at that time, anyway; she had enough money to save Downton. But, the thought of marrying someone just because money made his stomach churn.

That wasn't what he had planned for his life. Instead of pursuing a bride, he should be in the ballroom, dancing with a beautiful young lady or maybe challenging his friends in a card game while enjoying a good cigar. But there was no place for the amusements of a young bachelor in his life. His father's words still echoed in his mind.

Feeling uneasy, he shifted his weight from leg to leg. None of that made more sense now. None of that mattered against the duty he ought to fulfill. Downton's future was in his hands. That was the major reason he was there tonight. That would be the reason he would attend all the season's events; he needed to find a bride. More than that, he needed to find a bride whose dowry was large enough to save Downton.

Robert knew how much such a requirement restricted his options. But, one thing worried him more than anything. Since he would be forced to marry earlier than he had planned, he wanted to find someone who at least he could enjoy being with; someone whose company was pleasant to him and with whom he could at least maintain a conversation.

More than that, since sometime in a near future he would have to produce an heir, perhaps it was also desirable that she had good looks. Marriage was a long-term commitment, and he wanted to make sure that he would spend the rest of his days next to someone who was as pleasing to the eye as to the mind. Maybe, if he was lucky, someday she could even become pleasant to his heart.

Again, he sighed heavily. He knew that this made his search for a wife a nearly impossible task. However, he needed to cling to the belief that he would find someone and avoid a life of unhappiness. Either that, or he knew gloom would claim him from now on.

The heaviness in his chest made it difficult to breath and so he crossed the room, dodging people on his way to the gardens. He hoped that some fresh air would make him feel better. There was nobody around, so as soon as he crossed the doors to the garden, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs.

He crossed his arms behind his back and walked slowly through the garden with his eyes absently watching the stubborn stars that shone through the clouds. Leaving the gravel path, he finally found a bench hidden among some small trees and bushes. It was almost like a perfect haven- away from the ballroom's excitement, but not so far that someone could accuse him of having prematurely left the ball. After all, he was there in the beauty and coziness of Lady Beatrice's garden.

Lost in his gloomy thoughts, he sat for a long time looking down, watching the tips of his own shoes. A wry smile curled the corners of his lips. A fortune hunter. His bright future had been reduced to those three words. That thought made him flinch involuntarily. As much as he didn't like it, he couldn't deny what he had become.

The first signs of a headache prompted him to close his eyes and slowly run his hand through his hair. He desperately wanted to be able to forget everything. Even if it was just for one night. But, he couldn't. He had a duty to perform and he was not a man who ran away from his duties.

With a sigh, he stood up and turned to head back into the ballroom. However, the sound of a muffled sob coming from the other side of the trees caused him to pause. Robert slowly approached the trees, avoiding making any noise, and that was when he saw her.

Peering through the bushes, he saw the figure of a young woman sitting on the bench with her back to him. Judging by the slight tremor in her shoulders, she was crying. His heart sunk when he finally recognized her silhouette under the moonlight. It was her. He was sure it was her.

* * *

As soon as she saw an opportunity, Cora had escaped to the gardens. She really needed a moment alone- away from her mother's watchful eyes, and especially away from everyone whose eyes watched her as if she were some kind of exotic animal.

She found a bench in a secluded corner of the gardens, protected by bushes. Perhaps there she could have a moment of peace and be herself without worrying about the dirty looks and prejudiced comments behind her back.

She didn't think it would be this hard. She would have never accepted her mother's idea to come to England in search of a good marriage if she had known what she would have to endure. Cora let herself drop heavily onto the bench, suddenly feeling very tired. Tired of all the empty smiles and frivolous talks. Tired of struggling to adapt to a society that seemed to have no trouble in accepting her money, but which would always look at her as if she weren't good enough.

She closed her eyes for a long moment until finally tears won the battle and rolled down her face freely. Soon, she choked back her sobs and hastened to wipe her tears. She couldn't allow anyone to see her like this or to know about her sorrow and loneliness. She had to go back inside and once more show them her best smile, at least until the end of the ball; until the moment when she, finally, would sink her head on her pillow and cry in the silence of her bedroom, waiting for the moment when finally sleep would come to claim her mind and body.

* * *

"What are you doing there?"

The unmistakable voice of George Dashwood coming from behind him made him almost jump. Robert cast a panicked look at his friend and immediately put his forefinger on his lips, asking for silence, which left George momentarily confused.

After he peered through the trees, Robert breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was still sitting in the same place and seemed completely oblivious to their presence.

"So, I see."

He felt George peeking over his shoulder and turned toward him to see a sly smile on his face.

"She really is worthy to be admired," George said, still grinning.

"Do you want to keep your voice down?" Robert whispered, without hiding his annoyance as he tried to pull George by his arm in an attempt to push him away before they could be discovered. But George didn't move an inch, as his feet had suddenly grown roots.

"Isn't she adorable?" George said, finally in a lower tone and didn't hide his surprise when Robert looked at him blankly. "Please, don't tell me that you are not hiding here watching the lovely Miss Levinson."

"I'm not hiding. Nor watching her." The look of pure disbelief on George's face forced him to continue. "I was already here when she arrived, and I didn't want to disturb nor embarrass her by announcing my presence."

"Ah, of course, always the gentleman," George replied with a wicked smile. "But didn't it occur to you that someone might surprise you here in this compromising situation?"

"I was already leaving when you arrived," Robert whispered again, staring at him. George stood there, watching him with an expression of amused incredulity on his face, doing a great job of making him increasingly uncomfortable.

"Besides," Robert felt compelled to continue to disguise his interest in her, what by now should be very obvious to his friend. "I don't understand why everyone seems so impressed by her. She seems quite ordinary- "

"Ordinary!"

"Shhhhh! George, please!" Robert struggled against his urge to drag his friend away by his shirt's collar and simply gave him a stern look. George stared at him as if suddenly a pair of horns had grown up in the middle of Robert's forehead.

"Ordinary?" George echoed in a whisper, which made Robert think about how that situation was getting ridiculous. "You must be completely blind, Crawley!"

"I'm sorry if I disappoint you. But, she doesn't exert the same fascination for me," Robert lied, shamelessly in a way he had never done in his entire life. But it was a matter of honor after all, as contradictory as it could be. He didn't want anyone, especially his old friend, to know how much she really affected him. How much he was bewitched by her. He almost smiled. Bewitched was definitely the right word for the feeling.

"Blind, no!" George continued, utterly surprised. "Worse. You must be mad, Robert! Anyone can see how gorgeous she is, so, don't lie to me, Robert!" He stared at him intently and Robert was forced to explain himself.

"She just doesn't appeal to me, George. Sorry. She laughs too much, and besides that, she is American."

"Who's there?" Both men froze at the sound of her voice coming from the other side of the trees. She had stood up from her bench and was now walking toward them.

Robert felt terrified and unable to escape, since George was blocking his way with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Annoyingly, his friend seemed quite amused by it all.

* * *

She sat as straight as she could when she heard the voices coming from the trees behind her. So, she wasn't alone, she thought, feeling completely terrified that someone had witnessed her moment of weakness.

It was her curiosity that made her stay. Suddenly, she needed to know who these gentlemen were that, in an almost naive way, believed that she couldn't hear them from where she was. After a couple minutes, the unusual conversation between them proved to be amusing enough to put a smile on her face. Until she heard more than she should.

"Besides, I don't understand why everyone seems so impressed by her. She seems quite ordinary—"

Cora blinked, feeling a wave of indignation. He thought she was ordinary? Not that she thought herself as gorgeous, but ordinary was too much to digest. Besides, she knew she was beautiful. Beautiful enough to draw the attention of both men and women. But, it wasn't what he had just said that bothered her most. It was the way he had said it that offended her. There was something hidden in his tone that she didn't know what it was, but that made her dislike him immediately.

"Ordinary?" The other man countered, sounding almost as surprised as she was.

"Shhhhh! George, please!" Again the other voice rebuked him. If it wasn't what had been said, she would have laughed when the one called George indignantly repeated his comment in a lower tone. At least one of them seemed to be on her side, she thought, beginning to sympathize with George.

"You must be completely blind, Crawley!"

Crawley. So that was his name. Where had she heard that name before? She was sure she hadn't been introduced to any Crawley, and yet, the name still sounded familiar.

"I'm sorry if I disappoint you. But she doesn't exert the same fascination for me."

So, this Crawley really seemed not to like her. That would never affect her if it wasn't for his tone again. There was something wrong with it.

"Blind, no! Worse. You must be mad, Robert!" She heard George said before he added, "Anyone can see how gorgeous she is, so don't lie to me!"

She smiled. George was becoming her knight in a shining armor. But her smile faded away in the next moment.

"She just doesn't appeal to me, George, sorry. She smiles too much, and besides that, she is American."

That comment had definitely gone too far. She stood up, controlling her own anger. She knew how the English could sometimes be snobs, but that was more than she could bear.

"Who is there?" Cora walked over to where the voices were, ready to go among the trees to find out their identity, especially that rude and petulant Crawley.

* * *

The last time Robert remembered feeling so terrified was when his mother had discovered that he was the one responsible for the fall of the sitting-room chandelier. He was seven, maybe eight.

That was ridiculous and he looked at George, asking for help. But his friend just raised his brows, seemingly willing to face the shame of being exposed. Robert took a deep breath. George was right, worse than being discovered would be to be seen fleeing. So, he turned to face his destiny. After all, it wasn't a matter of if she had heard what they had said, but how much she had heard.

The next moment she emerged through the trees, so fast and so determined, that he was forced to take a step back to prevent she to collide with him. That would have resulted in her falling into him, which would only make the situation even more ridiculous. He hadn't even thought that he could bump into George stepping back. And that was when he realized that George had vanished into thin air. The bastard.

He felt his cheeks burning and sought to regain his balance. Not knowing exactly what to say, he silently faced the pair of angry sapphire eyes that stared at him.

* * *

Cora had never expected to find the same man of gentle blue eyes who looked at her with unveiled interest earlier. But, who was he? He _had_ to be George. He _must_ be George. She needed him to be George, her champion, she thought, averting her eyes from him to compose herself.

"Do you have the habit of spying and talking about ladies while hiding amongst the trees?" She tilted her head, avoiding his gaze at all cost. She would melt if she didn't.

* * *

Robert cursed George for the hundredth time. But, something told him that George's abrupt departure had been for the best. Having George at his back, amusing himself at his expense, wouldn't make things any better.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Levinson," Robert stammered, suddenly realizing that he shouldn't address her since they had never been properly introduced. But to hell with it, he thought, trying to focus on getting out of this mess. "I wasn't spying you. I'm really, really sorry if I gave you that impression."

"Well, what do you want me to think? You were hidden in the shadows, talking about me with someone else." She then looked around. "Where's the other?"

Robert thought of how much worse this could get and opened his mouth to answer, but she interrupted him.

"Who are you, anyway?" Her voice was harsh, and he stared at her, seeming to be quite shocked at her informality. She rolled her eyes, but spoke in a softer tone this time. "Since you know my name, it seems quite unfair that I didn't know yours. Especially after what I've heard."

"_Well, she has a point," _he thought. "Robert Crawley, Viscount of Downton at your service," he bowed more by the force of the habit than by anything else.

He saw her frowning- very slight- but it was there.

"_Why are the ones with the nicest eyes have always the biggest cads?_" She complained in silence and her eyes stiffened. "So, Lord Crawley, why did you remain hidden even after seeing me?"

Robert bit his lower lip, thinking that that wasn't the best time to explain to her the correct form to address him. "I couldn't say how long you had been there when I saw you. You seemed to be very upset. No gentlemen would leave a lady alone in the dark in such distress."

He told her the truth, or at least the part of the truth that it was possible to reveal. After all, how could he confess to her that he had been enchanted by her smile since the first time he saw her? Bewitched, he thought once more.

"And because of that, did you feel in the right to spy on me and offend me?"

He suppressed a sigh. So, she had heard all the nonsense he had said. It had been foolish to think that she wouldn't hear them. He looked at her cold eyes. How could he explain to her that he said what he said just because he wanted to outwit George? Good Lord, that definitely wouldn't end well.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss Levinson. It wasn't my intention," he tried to argue in his own favor, but it was as if he had thrown his words onto a brick wall.

"I can only conclude that the meaning of the word 'gentleman' in your country is very different than it is in mine, my Lord," she lifted her chin defiantly, and he saw her eyes sparkle before she added, "either that, or you're not worthy to be called a gentleman at all."

She had guts, he owed her that much. She had also reached him right in his pride. It no longer mattered that he hadn't acted properly with her. She had no right to talk to him in such an impertinent way. He felt his blood boiling and the words just slipped from his lips before he could stop them.

"Making mistakes or no, Miss Levinson, I know who I am and I also know, very well, my place in this world. What makes me wonder is if you know yours."

He regretted his words the very moment he heard his own voice. What was he thinking anyway? He should be trying to mend things with her, and not worsening them. But, it was too late.

She slapped him, her hand hitting him with force. Robert ran a hand across his sore face, amazed that someone with such delicate completion had such strength. He faced her blue eyes, darkened with fury and knew he was doomed.

"Why did you do that?" He muttered, still feeling the pain in his face, completely unable to drive away his eyes from hers.

"You deserved it," Cora replied shakily, her eyebrows drawn together in anger as she seemed to look for words that could better express her feelings. He looked at her for a moment, knowing that she was right.

So, he did the most unexpected and, probably, the most absurd thing he had ever done in his entire life. Taken by a feeling that he could never explain, he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them dangerously. Before she could react, he tightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger of which he was previously unaware.

He felt her hands pushing against his chest, trying to stop him and he would have promptly let her go if, in the next instant, he hadn't felt her lips opening to him and her body finally relaxing into his arms.

Even knowing how inappropriate this was, he deepened the kiss. Pulling her even closer, he felt her shudder slightly as her body leaned into him. Her hands slid up his chest and the electricity from her touch, even over the fabric of his clothes, awakened in him feelings he has ignored until now. So, wrong became right and he just lost himself in the sweetness of her lips.

When she broke their kiss, they were both breathless. Their eyes met for what seemed to him like an eternity. When he finally spoke, he almost couldn't recognize the low and hoarse whisperer that came from his lips.

"Now you can slap me."

But she didn't move a single muscle and just remained standing there, looking at him with those amazing blue eyes. For a quick moment, he caught a glimpse of a spark in her eyes, something so unexpected, that both surprised and scared him. But once again, the blue of her eyes darkened and he momentarily feared for his own welfare when she raised her hand, pointing her forefinger at him.

"How do you... you... you..." She stumbled over the words without being able to articulate any coherent sentence. Robert couldn't tell if the look on her face was one of confusion or anger. Probably both. Or maybe neither. He himself hadn't yet recovered from the feelings that kiss had evoked and her taste still was fresh in his mouth.

Her cheeks, which were already flushed as a result of their kiss, became crimson red with frustration. For a moment, he thought she would actually slap him again. But when she spoke, her voice sounded much more controlled than he expected.

"I must go," she whispered, and seeming to be unsure what she should do next, she curtsied. Instantly, her cheeks became even redder, as if she realized how ridiculous it was. Then, after casting him an angry look, she growled and turned on her heels to march back into the ballroom.

After she disappeared through the ballroom doors, Robert let himself fall heavily onto the bench. What the hell had possessed him to act like that? It wasn't right, and he knew he should be ashamed and remorseful. Except he wasn't. He had never felt so right doing the wrong thing. The memory of how her body had adjusted perfectly to his when he pulled her against him made him catch his breath for a moment. It was as if everything he had done in his life had brought him to that moment.

Robert took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together and shook his head as if that could bring him back to normal. But, it seemed something quite impossible since he was still able to feel the warmth of her lips on his, her taste still on his tongue.

* * *

She tried not to run on her way back into the ballroom. She was sure that her mother's watchful eyes certainly would notice her strangely flushed face and she didn't intend to worsen her appearance even further. She felt her cheeks burning, but not as much as her lips. The memory of his scent, his eyes, his soft lips against hers, disturbed her enough to make her trip and she had to hold on to keep from falling.

She had always dreamt about her first kiss. It would be a magical moment in the arms of the man she would be in love with. She had never thought that it would be like that- so blunt, so bold, so... hot. She tripped again, and she mentally cursed.

She was sure he was watching her. She could feel his eyes burning her skin and falling was the last thing she wanted. She had already made a fool of herself in front of him enough to give him pleasure.

Had she actually curtsied? What she was thinking? Good Lord in the heavens, she had growled. Growled! But, what was a grunt when she had behaved in the most unladylike way possible in letting him kiss her like that? Oh, even worse! She had kissed him back!

One could have one's reputation easily ruined by something like that. If someone had seen them, there would be only one honorable way out. The idea of marrying someone like Robert Crawley made her feel sick and she desperately needed a drink.

Cora walked hurriedly to the refreshment table and gladly accepted the glass of fruit punch the footman had offered her. Before she could take the first sip she instinctively closed her eyes, letting the taste of his lips remain in her mouth for a second longer before it would vanish completely. She paused for a moment, aware that she was still out of her mind. He had done this to her. That naughty, rude, smug and... terribly charming man. She sighed and surprised herself as she wished to meet his deep blue eyes once more.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I'd like to thank all of you who have devoted some of your time to read this story and to post so many kind reviews. Many special thanks to my wonderful beta, granthamfan for her invaluable support and help!**_

* * *

He couldn't say how long he remained seated there in the gardens, trying to organize his confused thoughts. But when he returned to the ballroom, Robert was sure that the evening was over for him. All he wanted was to go home and forget about everything; especially her. He searched the room for Rosamund, intending to warn her about his departure, but it wasn't her sight that caught his eye.

"_George, __you__ little rascal__,"_ he frowned as he watched his friend leading Miss Levinson to the center of the ballroom with a proud look on his face. Perhaps feeling Robert's eyes on them, George looked at him over Miss Levinson's head and raised a challenging eyebrow, prompting Robert to feel strangely uneasy.

_Are you teasing me__? _he thought, and tried to ignore the sly grin on George's face as they started to move elegantly to the sound of the orchestra.

It was not surprise that George was dancing with her; after all, his friend would be the last one to ignore such a beauty. Of course, there was no surprise in the look of delight on her face. Robert was accustomed to seeing it in the faces of each lady who had already danced with George because…well, just because he was George Dashwood. What had caught him off–guard however was his own reaction. Why all this was disturbing him he didn't fully understand. He had never bothered before with the fact that all women in England fell so easily under George's spell. Actually, he was used to it. And as long as he kept his promise to never, ever court Rosamund Robert knew he wouldn't care if George suddenly decided to abandon his old resolution of not marrying before his thirtieth birthday and finally began to thing about courting someone properly. He had already decided to put these thoughts aside and walk to the refreshments table when George made them purposefully spin in front of him once more. The enigmatic grin plastered on his friend's face left Robert puzzled.

_What are you up to, George__? _he wondered as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, once again feeling uneasy.

Friends since their early days at Eton, there was between them the same complicity and honesty expected among very close siblings. Likewise, there was also an atmosphere of constant good-natured teasing between two young men who had learned to respect and admire one another despite being so different. But if he admired the ease with which George dealt with his responsibilities and the almost irreverence with which he lived his life, there was something about his behavior that deeply bothered Robert.

The undeniable truth about George Dashwood, which curiously everyone seemed eager to ignore, was that he was a rake. Lately, mostly to Robert's dismay, he seemed to collect mistresses. At least George seems to follow a kind of moral code. Wisely, for his own sake, he restricted himself to widows, actresses and singers; mature women, mostly, who knew very well the consequences of becoming involved with someone like him. This somehow seemed to comfort Robert who had preferred to think that, since George would never undermine the reputation or would offend the honor of anyone, the moral issues of his illicit romances belonged to himself and the lady in question. And for all he knew, George had never behaved with anyone in a manner that wasn't befitting the gentleman he was-or should be, at least.

That made him think once more about Miss Levinson and his own ungentlemanly behavior towards her. He looked at her once more. What had this woman done to him to make him act like that?

But, in the end, it was Miss Levinson herself who hit him directly in his pride and compelled him to make a move. As soon as their eyes met, the young lady tilted her head and lifted her chin so high that, for a moment, Robert thought that she would hit George in the eye.

"_Damn__," _Robert muttered between gritted teeth. _"So, that is how __it's__ going to be?" _He adjusted the sleeves of his jacket and then, turning on his heels, he walked resolutely toward Lady Beatrice with his best smile plastered to his face. That was, after all, a game that he also knew how to play.

* * *

Cora had recognized his voice as soon as she heard it, and had to struggle to disguise her astonishment. The handsome young man with cunning dark eyes bowed his head slightly in subtle reverence as he was introduced to her parents. He repeated the same elegant gesture in front of her and she had the impression that he boldly held her gaze for a moment longer than was appropriate.

She knew who he was even before Lady Beatrice had told them his name. George Dashwood, Viscount Brentwood, the future Duke of Waltham, the young man about whom she had heard so much. He really seemed to live up to the title of the most eligible bachelor in England. But, none of that mattered. The only important thing was that the man who was now discreetly smiling at her was George. _Her George. _Her knight in shining armor who had so gallantly defended her against the execrable Robert Crawley. That discovery alone was enough to make her want to scream with excitement. Instead, she just lowered her gaze and showed a shy grin when she heard Lady Beatrice's amused comment on how he had been a badly behaved boy in childhood.

While he talked to her parents, she studied him discreetly. Everything about him seemed perfect; his smile, his stylish clothes, his discreet manners, the kindness in his voice and his pleasant conversation. Everything about him indicated that he was a most perfect gentleman, unlike that other abominable being whose name she'd rather forget.

Since she had come back into the ballroom, Cora had decided that she hated Robert Crawley. It shouldn't be so difficult to hate someone who was so wicked, after all. No matter how intense and disturbing his blue eyes were, or the velvety quality of his voice. Never mind that she still felt her knees tremble at the memory of the look in his eyes, or that her lungs seemed to forget how to breathe just thinking about that kiss… She swallowed and tried to get rid of these thoughts. Nothing mattered except that she hated him. Or, at least, she was determined to do so. Secretly wishing that her little indiscretion had gone unnoticed, she held George's gaze for a moment longer than was proper. Cora needed to look into his eyes because she needed to know. And, then…nothing.

She felt completely disappointed with herself. Despite being delighted with his conversation and his enjoyable manners, and though she admired the beauty of his face's features and his charming smile, all she saw when she looked at him was a pair of intelligent dark brown eyes who observed her with unveiled interest. There were no butterflies in her stomach, no trembling knees, no breath caught in her throat. Nothing.

This wasn't right. It couldn't be right. What was wrong with her, anyway? But, she had no more time to reflect upon this question as he stood there expecting an answer to his request for a dance. Cora made a slight curtsey and accepted the hand he had offered her, finally forcing herself to feel pleased. And, why shouldn't she? She knew that all eyes were now on her, not because she was the exotic American who dared to stain the perfection of the English ballrooms, but because she was gliding elegantly in the arms of the most handsome, gallant and coveted gentleman in England.

An almost imperceptible smile curled the corners of her lips and she allowed herself to secretly enjoy her little moment of triumph. At least while she was dancing with him, she would be the envy of all the women there. She also had the notion that that one dance could affect everyone's opinion of her. After all, she had captivated the attention of none other than the Viscount Brentwood.

But, her joy didn't last long and was brutally interrupted by the sight of Robert Crawley on the other side of the room. He seemed distant and even constricted. Ignoring his thoughtful countenance, Cora wished with all her might that he would be struck by a lightening bolt, even knowing how impossible it was.

Their eyes met, and even if it was for no more than a second, she felt that strange feeling in her chest. She averted her eyes from him as fast as she could, lifting her chin flippantly. She definitely hated him. She _had_ to hate him; either that, or she was doomed.

She looked up slightly to observe George, and he showed her an almost imperceptible smile. With someone so perfect in front of her, why did she insist on worrying about that insufferable man? Then she saw something so utterly absurd that she lost her focus on the music and stepped on George's foot. Fortunately, he was kind enough to ignore her little lapse, although it did not prevent her from blushing furiously. She couldn't know whether the reason for her blushing was her clumsiness or the scene that unfolded before her astonished eyes.

To her dismay, Robert was now standing before her parents, having apparently been introduced to them by Lady Beatrice. Cora wanted to scream, but she only bit her bottom lip as she watched them exchanging courtesies and polite smiles. _What is he intending to do? Torture me?_

Perhaps sensing her indignant look upon him, he moved his eyes discreetly as if searching for something and as he noticed her watching him, he grinned. Cora suppressed an outraged gasp, and again stepped on George's foot. _At__ this point__, he probably thinks I__ really __am __a savage who __doesn't__ even know how to dance properly__,_ she thought.

She looked to at him and suppressed a sigh in frustrantion. _Maybe he wants to humiliate me__,_she thought and to her consternation, the orchestra played the final chords of the song. That meant that George would have to take her back to her place beside her parents and straight to meet the devil himself.

Robert's gaze upon her as they walked toward them was not helping her at all. Cora had to gather all her strength to maintain her self-control and hide her mixed emotions behind a mask of indifference. Even so, she noticed the curious glance exchanged between the two young men as George returned her to her parents' company.

"Lord Downton," George made an almost imperceptible bow which Robert mimicked before he said, "Lord Brentwood."

"I see you are already acquainted with each other," her father said, keenly raising his thick, dark brows. It was George who answered with a smile.

"We met as infants, Mr. Levinson." Looking at Robert, he continued. "I daresay we have been close friends since then."

Robert nodded his agreement, and her father seemed rather pleased when he finally stated, "Friendships that have lasted as long as yours are quite rare these days."

"Indeed, Mr. Levinson," Robert added with a coy grin.

"Gentlemen, allow me to correct the course of things," her father said as he looked at her fondly before looking at the man Cora wanted so much to hate. "Lord Downton, allow me to introduce you to my daughter, Miss Cora Levinson."

"I'm delighted, Miss Levinson," he made a slight bow, not daring to face her.

_Now he is pretending to be shy_, she thought, wishing she could run away or at least vanish. Instead, she did what was expected of her and made a discreet curtsey. As their conversation continued Cora remained silent, focusing all of her energy on the effort of maintaining a passive expression and ignoring Robert Crawley altogether.

When, a few minutes later, George apologized and left them, Cora completely ignored her mother's disapproving look and smiled openly at him-mostly because that oddly seemed to upset Robert and not because she wanted to somehow encourage George.

Soon, what she had feared most happened. When the orchestra began preparing for the next song, taking advantage of a pause in the conversation with her father, Robert politely asked her for the next dance. Cora searched desperately for a good reason to decline, and although her reasons were most contradictory, all of her instincts told her to stay as far away from him as possible. The most absurd ideas quickly crossed her mind as she struggled to avoid the disturbing pair of blue eyes which patiently watched her, waiting for an answer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the intense gaze of her mother upon her, her brows raised in question causing Cora to suppress a sigh. The silence between them demanded a response, but his outrageous words were still ringing in her ears. So, she looked up again and avoided his eyes with all of her strength before she nodded.

_If there is no way to escape this, __I need to __at least keep my dignity_, she thought as Robert led her by the hand onto the dance floor. She needed to focus on how much she hated him, and not on the warmth of his touch; and never, not even for a second, let herself look straight into his eyes.

* * *

As the orchestra started to play, Cora and Robert began to dance. In a controlled tone no one but Robert could hear, she said, "What do you think you are doing?"

Robert blinked blankly.

"Er-dancing?" There was a smile fighting its way onto his lips, but he prevented it as he saw the sparks flying from her eyes. Even so, he dared to tilt his head before stating matter-of-factly, "I was always told that I'm a pretty good dancer."

She rolled her eyes. "Please. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Lord Cra-" She couldn't finish her sentence because he interrupted her.

"Downton," he looked at her with a raised eyebrow before repeating-even though he knew it would make her even angrier, "Lord Downton."

"And why can't I just call you Crawley?" She watched him for a moment before asking him, seeming to Robert more curious than angry.

"Crawley is my family name; Downton is my title," he explained to her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and by the way she narrowed her eyes, Robert knew that their little truce was over.

"Don't change the subject! I just asked you a question."

"It was _you_ who changed the subject, Miss Levinson," he said, unable to contain the persistent smile any longer. "What question?"

Her cheeks were flushed, and Robert could have sworn she grunted. When she spoke again, her irritation was clear in her tone.

"Are you always so unbearable?"

He chuckled. "I'm sure this is a question my sister would be immensely happy to answer for you."

"Why are you doing this?" she snapped, and Robert thought that at any moment she would abandon him in the middle of the ballroom which, by all means, would be completely inappropriate. He could already feel some curious stare upon them. But something about her made him act differently, and once again he pushed his limits in teasing her.

"Because this is what people are supposed to do at a ball," he smirked before spinning her once more. "Dance."

Being unable to control herself any longer, Cora used the only form of retaliation she could think of that would not cause any further commotion. She stepped hard on his foot, her eyes fixed on his face. Robert looked at her, a painful look on his face; however, though he stopped dancing, he still kept her in his arms.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I'm punishing you!"

They both felt prying eyes upon them and began to dance again.

"Why?" he whispered, trying not to limp. But, his lips twisted into a wry smile which gave him a comical air that almost pulled a smile from Cora - but not quite.

"For trying to humiliate me and for" - here she lowered her tone to a barely perceptible level - "for having done what you did in the gardens."

"Oh." Robert raised a subtle eyebrow. "For a moment, I thought you liked what happened in the gardens," he replied, also lowering his tone to mimic hers.

Cora tried again to step on his foot, but this time he was prepared and moved faster than her, still having dexterity enough to surprise her by spinning her once again. Their eyes met, and he saw her rising fury darkening the blue of hers. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted her, this time completely serious.

* * *

"Never," he said and although she didn't understand exactly what he was talking about, something in his voice made her want listen. "I would never, ever be able to humiliate you, Miss Levinson. Or do anything to hurt you."

The honesty in his voice surprised her, prompting her to examine his face, looking for the same signs in his eyes. What she found caught her off guard, and she knew immediately that she was about to falter. But then she remembered why she was angry with him.

"You don't even tolerate Americans, Lord Downton."

"That's not true," he said softly seeming to be genuinely guilty,

"I heard what you said about me before in the gardens."

He hesitated for a long moment, seeming as if he were struggling to find the words. "I lied," Robert finally said.

"Did you?" Cora countered without believing him.

He nodded slowly and twirled her again, pulling her to him a little more than he should. His close proximity made her heart beat faster. "I did," he repeated and by the way he had spoken, Cora knew that he had said it again to make her look at him. Yet, she couldn't prevent her eyes from searching his.

"I just wanted to divert George's attention," he added as soon as their eyes met and when she remained silent, boldly sustaining his gaze, he proceeded in a near-whisper, "because the truth, Miss Levinson, is that I think you are just…ravishing."

This time it was she who stopped the dance, so utterly surprised by his words that she was momentarily unable to move. He had again overstepped the limits of propriety, and her indignation with him should have increased with his actions. But, something in his tone, something deep in his eyes made her, at that moment, forget about everything.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Levinson." She watched as his cheeks blushed furiously. "For everything."

Silently they stared at each other, his eyes absorbing her so completely that for a moment she felt as if they were the only two in the room. Her mouth went dry and her heart was beating so loudly that she feared he could hear it. So she took one step back, the impropriety of her own thoughts scaring her more than anything when she realized that she longed for his kiss once more.

Fixing his eyes on hers, he felt weak in his knees. How easily he could get lost in her eyes, in her mouth, in the soft curve of her neck. He swallowed hard, silently recognizing that the only thing that prevented him from kissing her again was that they were in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

She remained silent for what seemed to him like an eternity, until her soft voice was heard over the melodious strains of the orchestra.

"Lord Downton, can you please take me back?"

Robert needed a second to react. That was not exactly what he wanted to hear from her. He honestly wanted to win her forgiveness. He needed it as if his own life depended on it.

"Is there anything I can do to apologize to you?" he asked softly, all of his guilt transpiring in his tone.

"Please just take me back to my parents."

He nodded and silently escorted her back, hundreds of confused thoughts crossing mind along the short path he walked. And before presenting his excuses to the Levinsons to leave and begin his way to the exit door, he was sure of two things: he was a complete fool, and he was definitely bewitched.


End file.
